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Chapter Twelve
Quinn
As they droveinto the motel parking lot, Hudson killed the lights on the SUV. Quinn appreciated his attempts to keep their entry on the down low, but she was still nervous about it.
What if someone saw her with the two shifters? Especially these two shifters?
“Pull around back,” she said, slinking down in her seat as Hudson steered around the building.
All the lights in the front rooms were out — the rooms where her parents were staying.
Please let them already be asleep, Quinn thought. She desperately wanted to avoid a confrontation with them over where she’d been, and despite herself, she hoped that they’d been too wrapped up in planning Julius’s assassination to wonder where she was.
Then she instantly felt guilty.
Hudson pulled into a parking space in the middle of the parking lot, facing the row of rooms, and killed the engine.
“Okay,” said Quinn, taking a deep breath and digging her room key from her pocket. “See you guys tomorrow, I guess.”
The thought made her nauseous. The next time she saw them, she’d be waving a hateful sign and desperately trying to figure out who the shooter was.
Hudson opened his door and got out of the SUV, followed by Julius. Outside the car, they both wrapped Quinn in bear hugs.
Literally, she thought, half-smiling.
“I’ll be fine,” Julius said, her head buried in her chest.
“Shouldn’t I be comforting you?” she asked, her voice small.
“I’ve got Hudson for that.”
“You’ll be fine,” Hudson rumbled.
Then there was a gunshot, so loud it felt like her head was splitting open.
Quinn whipped her head around for a split second and she looked toward the sound, for the shooter. Her body froze, and she felt like her brain had frozen, too.
What’s happening?was the only thing she could think.
Then Hudson and Julius both tackled her at once, pushing her behind the SUV as another bullet whizzed past, but not before she got a look at the man with the gun.
It was Vince.
The quiet guy, who was balding but had a ponytail and had a tattoo on his arm of the United States, the three shifter states blacked out.
“Stay down,” Julius growled. “Hudson, you got a gun?”
“I know him,” Quinn whispered.
I should have guessed, she thought, the shock running through her system. He’s always weirded me out.
“Of course I don’t have a gun,” Hudson hissed. “I have a pocketknife, because I’m not a criminal anymore.”
“Fuck.”
Quinn could hear Vince walking along the motel wall, closing the angle between himself and the SUV. She could feel the adrenaline spiking through her veins, her hands starting to shake.
We have nowhere to run, she thought. What are we going to do, circle the car until he gets bored?
